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No.    CI.XXX. 

FRENCH'S      MINOR     DRAMA 


THE 


L 


BACHELOR'S  BEDROOM 

OR, 

TWO  IN  THE  MORNING, 

A   OOMIO    SCENE, 
BY  CHARLES /MATTHEWS,   Esq. 


ITH  CAST  OF  CHAKACTERS,  STAGE  BUSINESS,  COSTUMES, 
RELATIVE  POSITIONS,  ETC.,  ETC. 


AS  PERFORMED  AT  THE  PRINCIPAL  THEATRES. 


P 

IIP  NEAV     YORK: 

SAMUEL     FRENCH,     PIT  BLUSHER 

12-1  Nassau  Strket.   (Up  Staiub 


I 


ie  Mitchell's  Plays.— Faxchon,  The  Cricket— Wild  Irish  Girl— Little 

AUKFOOT — i'EAUL   OF   SaVOV — Ka  I  TT   O'HhEAL. 

ymylhinfl  on  this  cover  sent  by  mail  on  ;  eccipt  qfprtce. 


T^ 


DRAMATIS     PERSONS. 


Lyceum — London. 

Newpenny, Mr.   Keeley. 

Stranger, Mr.C.  Mathews. 

Gentleman,  (to  appear  at  window,)         ...      Mr.  Kerridge. 
Female,  (to  speak  without,)        -        -        -        -        .        Miss  Lano 


Museum  —  Boston,  1850. 

Newpenny,        - Mr.  W.  Warren. 

Stranger, Mr.  L.  J.  Mestayer. 


Museum  —  Boston,  1856. 

Newpenny, -  Mr.W.  Warren. 

Stranger,    -        -        -.-        -       -        -       -         Mr.  H.  Farren. 


Chamber  Street,  N.  Y.,  1866 

Newpenny,        -     .**',-         w.^-i    J-;    ;-        Mr.  L.  Goldsmidt. 
Stranger,     -        -   •    •*      -  >  *-   '   >  C  •.'.*       Mr.  L.  J.  Mestayer. 


TIME    OF    REPRESENTATION,   FORTY   MINUTES. 


BACHELOR'S    BEDROOM 


Scene  1st. — a  bachelor's  bedroom, 

The  pink  of  neatness.  In  the  centre  of  flat,  a  very  vnde  windoiv,  suffi- 
ciently large  every  way  to  show  plainly,  when  open,  another  window  of 
similar  dimensions,  supposed  to  be  on  the  other  side  of  the  street.  The 
window  has  a  white  blind  drawn  down — curtains  drawn  over  it.  On  E. 
H.  a  bed,  the  curtains  drawn  closely  around  it.  At  the  side  of  the  bed,  a 
chair  with  a  morning  gown  laid  neatly  on  it  —  at  the  foot,  a  rushlight 
burning.  On^.  h.  1  e.,  near  the  bed,  a  wash-hand-stand  as  if  recently 
used.  Set  cup-board  door  R.  H.  2  e.  On  the  wall  L.  h.  hangs  a  Greek 
cap  and  a  latch  key.  L.  H.  2  e.  a  very  neat  fire-place — fender,  tongs,  rug, 
fireguards.  Sic— fire  nearly  out  —  coal  scuttle  with  three  lumps  of  coal  in 
it  on  L.  H.  —  a  pair  of  bellows  hangs  from  a  nail  near  the  chimney  —  a 
boot-jack  on  the  rug.  On  mantlepiece,  looking-glass,  two  vases — in  the 
centre  a  watch-case  with  a  watch  in  it  —  two  unlighted  candles,  one  tcith 
extinguisher — on  the  rug  afoot-pan — a  dish  with  soap,  sponge,  etc.,  and 
a  horse  for  towels,  as  if  recently  used — an  arm-chair  near  it  with  a  Jacket 
hanging  over  the  back  of  it.  Near  the  chimney  L.  H.  a  small  loiiting  table, 
with  its  appropriate  furniture,  particularly  a  bundle  of  new  pens,  a  pen- 
knife, sealing  wax  and  a  paper-knife,  ii.  H.  3  e.  a  door  leading  to  the 
stair  case — an  umbrella  and  hat  on  pegs — carpet  dozen.  On  l.  h.  1  e.  a 
settle  with  things  laid  very  neatly,  as  if  recently  taken  off— a  pair  of 
boofs  standing  side  by  side  in  front  of  it.  Stage  dark,  excepting  the 
rushlight,  and  the  red  light  thrown  from  afire  on  the  objects  near  it. 

[Mr.  Newpenny  is  in  bed  but  not  visible  to  the  audience.'] 

The  wind  is  heard  and  a  gentle  rain  at  intervals  —  silence  for  a  minute  or 
two,  then  irregular  knocking  behind  flat,  moderate  at  first,  and  gradually 
increasing — supposed  to  be  in  the  street. 

Neicpenny.  [In  bed  —  the  curtains  drawn  close  —  a  knock^  Come  in! 
\^A  knock — he  pops  his  head  through  the  curtains  —  a  knock  —  he  pulls  open 
the  curtains.]  What  can  be  the  matter?  [A  knock.']  Oh !  it's  in  the 
Street ;  some  one  locked  out  of  his  lodgings.     [A  knock.]    It  ncTcr 


M43329 


4  THE   BACHELOR'S   BEDROOM  ! 

can  be  the  same  person  that  was  knocking  half  an  hour  ago,  and  kept 

up  halloing  out 

.  ,  Voice.     Richards !,  [Knocking.'] 

'2i^eu\\  Richards!  -it^sjths  very  same,  I  declare  !  They  're  in  no 
hurry  to  open  the  door,"  however. 

.  Voice.^ .  .Richards!  [.  Knock  in  f/.] 

JVey.  Con  found -Ric'hs'j'ds!  I  only  wish  he  was  as  bad  a  sleeper  as 
I  Am  ;  he  wotildn't  Vddt  so  much  [Knock}  knocking  and 

Vol.     Richards ! 

New.  Calling  for.  [Knocking  and  calling.']  That's  right !  Knock 
away — don't  be  afraid!  He's  getting  impatient,  and  I  don't  wonder 
at  it.  [Knocking.]  Where  the  deuce  can  it  be  at?  It  sounds  like 
number  [Two  knocks.]  two!  It  must  be  [Knock.]  number  two! 
[Dropping  off  to  sleep  again.]  at  number  [2  kiiocks]  two — number 
[Knocking.]  two  !  [As  he  drop's  asleep  on  his  pillow  — pause ;  then  a  tre- 
mendous knocking  which  wakes  him  up.]  Oh !  upon  my  soul  there  's  no 
standing  this  !  He'll  knock  there  all  night,  and  I've  got  to  be  at  my 
office  at  eight  o'clock.  I  shan't  get  a  wink.  [  Continued  knocking  and 
calls  of  ^^Jiichards,"  till  he  opens  the  window,  c]  I'll  put  a  stop  to  it  at 
once.  [He  takes  his  dressing  gown  from  the  chair  at  the  side  of  the  bed, 
puts  it  on,  and  then  draws  the  curtains.  Single  knocks,  while  he  gets  out 
of  bed  and  puts  on  his  slippers.  The  dressing  gown  must  reach  to  his  heels. 
He  then  hastily  shuffles  to  the  window,  draws  up  the  blind  and  throws  open 
the  window  —  knocking  ceases.]  It  is  at  number  two  —  that  infernal 
lodging  house  opposite  !  Confound  number  two  !  [Knock  single.]  Sir ! 
sir!  the  noise  you  are  making  la  abominable.  Sir!  [Knocking  ceases.'] 
Do  you  hear  me,  sir  ? 

Vol.    Sir  ? 

New.  At  last !  Here  I  am  sir  —  up  here,  in  the  two  pair  opposite 
— that's  it. 

Voi.     What's  the  matter,, sir? 

New.  Will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you  if  you  contemplate  knocking 
at  that  door  much  longer  ? 

Voi.     What  do  you  say,  Sir? 

Neiv.  What  do  I  say  !  Sir,  I  say  it  would  be  much  more  agreeable 
to  me,  and  I  presume  to  my  neighbors,  if  you  would  go  quietly  into 
your  house  without  alarming  the  whole  parish,  as  you  are  doing  — 
that's  what  I  say,  sir. 

Voi.  Pray,  sir,  do  you  mean  to  insult  me  by  telling  me  to  go 
quietly  into  my  house,  when  I've  almost  beaten  the  door  down,  and 
can't  get  in  ?     Surely  you  must  have  heard  how  I've  been  knocking. 

New.     I  have  indeed,  rather 

Voi.  And  it  must  be  evident  to  you  that  I  can't  make  my  man 
hear. 

New.  I  have  no  hesitation  in  declaring  that  your  man  must  be 
deaf !  However,  sir,  now  that  I  have  explained  to  you  how  very  un- 
pleasant your  noise  has  become,  I  am  sure  you  will  have  too  much 
consideration  for  your  neighbors,  to  disturb  them  any  longer.  Give 
your  man  time  to  get  up  and  dress  himself,  and  I've  no  doubt  he  '11 
come  to  the  door — he  must  have  heard  you — I  am  sure  he  must, 


OR,    TWO   IN   TirE    MORNING.  O 

only  be  patient !  Sir,  I  have  the  honor  of  wishing  you  a  very  good 
nieht'  [Shuts  thewiiidow  —  shivers  and  coughs  as  he  returns  to  bed.\ 
How  very  pheasant !  a  nice  cold  I've  got— I  feel  it  already.  {Sneezes.] 
I  wonder  what  o'clock  it  is ?  [Takes  his  watch  out  of  the  stand  on  the 
chimneii  piece,  l.  h.  2  e.  and  brings  it  to  rushlight  on  R.  h.]  Two  m  the 
morning  !  very  pleasant— as  I  said  before,  I  must  be  at  my  ofhce  at 
eight ;  I  haven't  been  one  minute  after,  for  ten  years  —  so  a  great 
deal  of  sleep  I'm  likely  to  get !  [Arranges  his  bed.']  Come,  corae,  my 
gentleman  has  had  the  manners  to  yield  respectfully  to  my  remon- 
strances, and,  as  luckily  I  am  dying  with  sleep,  I  may  still  get  a 

little  sweet  and  refreshing [Knocking  repeated,  till  Newpenny  calls 

out,  Hoy,  hoy  !  there  he  is  again.  [Knocking  — he  throws  up  the  win- 
dow, c] '  Sir !     [Knocking  ceases.]— Sir  ! 

Voi.     Oh,  don't  bother  1  can't  you  go  to  sleep  and  let  me  alone  ? 

New.  Go  to  sleep  indeed  I  I  defy  a  top  to  sleep  !  I  can  tell  you 
this— as  true  as  you  are  born,  if  you  don't  leave  off  knocking  I'll  call 
the  police.  .  i  .  x 

Voi.  You  may  call  the  devil,  if  you  please;  but  I've  a  right  to 
knock  as  long  as  I  like  at  my  own  door. 

Neio.     You  've  no  right. 

Voi.     I  have. 

New.     You  have  n't. 

Voi.    I  have !  and  if  I  have  n't  I  shall. 

New.     You  shan't! 

Voi.    No? 

New.     No ! 

Voi.     Oh  !   we'll  soon  see  that.  [Knocks.]  Richards ! 

New.     Sir!  sir!  stop  —  I've  something  to  say,   [Knocking  stops.J 

Voi.     Well,  well !  what  now  ?     Can't  you  be  quiet  ? 

New.  Can't  gou  be  quiet,  you  mean.  That's  just  what  I've  been 
asking  you  this  last  half  hour  !  I  tell  you  I  do  n't  like  being  kept 
up  here  in  the  cold  ! 

Voi.  Then  how  do  you  think  1  like  being  kept  down  here  in  the 
wet? 

New.  Wet?  bless  me,  so  it  is  ;  pouring  cats  and  dogs.  I  shall 
catch  my  death  of  cold. 

Voi.     What  do  you  say  ? 

New.     I  say  I  shall  catch  my  death. 

Voi.     So  shall  I.     Richards  !  Richards!  [^nocHw^r  incessan%. J 

New.  Oh,  by  Jove,  I  can 't  stand  this.  [Knocking  ceases.]  Why 
don't  you  get  a  bed  at  an  inn  ? 

Voi.  I  've  my  own  peculiar  reasons  for  not  loosing  sight  of  this 
door.  [Knocks.] 

New.    There  is  only  one  thing  to  be  done.     Sir !   Sir !      [Knocking 
ceases.]  I  wi=h  you  would  do  me  the  favor  to  step  up  here. 
Voi.     How  do  you  mean? 

New.  From  the  little  I  have  seen  of  you,  and  the  great  deal  I 
have  heard  of  you,  I  should  say  you  were  as  likely  a  man  as  any  I 

know,  to  knock  there  till 

Voi.    Till  they  let  me  in !  you  're  right ;   I  am. 


6  THE  bachelor's   BEDROOM: 

New.  Then,  if  agreeable  to  you,  I'd  much  rather  see  you  quietly 
asleep,  in  my  room,  than  hear  you  awake,  anywhere  else  within  a 
mile  of  it. 

Vol.  Upon  my  soul,  sir,  if  you're  in  earnest,  I  do  n't  think  your 
offer  is  to  be  sneezed  at. 

Miv.     No  more  do  I.  [Sneezes.'] 

Vol.    What  do  you  say  ? 

Neio.  I  say,  |  Sneezes.]  I  say  I  don  't  think  it  is  a  thing  to  be 
[Sneezes.]  I  say  I  wish  you'd  make  haste  and  decide. 

Voi.     Well  then,  under  the  circumstances,  I  accept  your  offer. 

New.     Thank  haaven ! 

Voi.  I'll  just  make  one  more  trial.  [Begins  to  knock  and  call.] 
Kichards ! 

New.  No,  no  !  if  you  knock  any  more  I'll  leave  you  where  you  are. 
Here  !  look  out,  here's  my  latch-key.  [Takes  key  off  the  nail  l.  h.  f., 
atid  throws  it  out  of  the  window.]  Mind!  the  door  opposite  No.  3o,  sec- 
ond story.  Stay!  I'll  light  a  candle  for  you.  [Pauses  a  little  —  shuts 
the  window.]  Yes,  that's  my  only  chance.  [A  door  heard  to  bang  l. 
H.  3  E.  and  a  windoiv  to  break.]  There  !  he  has  banged  the  door  so 
that  he  has  broken  the  fan-light !  The  man's  a  positive  earthquake. 
[Lights  a  candle  at  the  rushlight.]  Now  if  he  is  but  a  snorer,  that  will 
be  complete  !     [  Opens  door  l.  h.  3  e.J     This  way,  sir. 

[A  fall  heard  upon  ike  stairs,  l.  n.  3  e.] 

Voi.     Damn  the  coal-scuttle !     I've  broken  my  shins  ! 

New.  Hush !  for  goodness' sake  —  you'll  wake  all  the  house.  How 
he  swears,  too  —  I  hope  no  one  will  hear  him — I  shall  lose  my 
char  actor. 

Voi.     Why  the  devil  do  n't  you  show  a  light  there  ? 

New.     Hush !  don't  bawl  so ;  and  hold  on  by  the  banisters— that's  it. 

A  stranger  enters  door  3  e.  l.  h.  hastily,  passing  before  Neupenny  who  is 
near  the  door  L.  H.  He  appears  zcet  and  muddy — a  cigar  in  his  mouth 
and  a  dripping  umbrella  in  his  hand — he  comes  down  R.  h. 

Str.     Thank  you.     Here's  your  latch-key. 

New.     Key  !  I  lent  you  a  key,  and  you  return  me  a  corkscrew. 

Str.  I  can't  compliment  you  on  your  staircase  ;  it's  steep  as  a  lad- 
der and  as  dark  as  pitch. 

New.  Why,  you  see,  not  expecting  visitors  at  this  hour,  the  lamp 
was  out,  [Seeing  that  the  door  is  left  open.]  Have  you  any  one  else 
with  you?  [The  stranger  shakes  the  rain  off  his  hat,  and  puts  it  down 
with  his  umbrella,  on  a  chair  —  Newpenny  instantly  removes  them.]  You've 
left  the  door  open  ;  I'm  sure  you  re  not  aware  of  it,  but  —  deuce 
take  him.  [Seeing  tlvit  the  other  does  not  attend,  puts  the  candle  on  the 
table,  and  shuts  the  door,  during  which  time  the  i^tranger  goes  to  the  win- 
doiv  centre  and  throws  it  open. 

Sir.  Exactly  opposite! — my  own  window,  I  declare  —  there  it  is, 
Bure  enough.  [  Walks  away  from  it  and  paces  the  stage.] 


OR,    TWO   IX  THE  MOUNLNO.  7 

New.  \  Shutting  the  vdndow  after  him,  down  ■&.']  Ah!  you  live  on  the 
second  floor  opposite,  do  you  ?  Hollo !  why  you're  smoking,  aaid  I've 
a  pp.Tticular  objection 

Str.  Am  I?  — I  didn't  know  it.  [^Puts his  cigar  on  the  mantlepiece  l. 
H.  2  E.J 

New.     They  didn  't  expect  you  home  to  night,  it  seems  ? 

Sfr.   [  To  himself  j  It's  very  extraordinary. 

New.     What  is  it  ? 

Str.     Whrtt  has  just  occurred. 

New.  Oh !  my  asking  you  up !  Why,  as  you  say,  it  was  an  odd 
thing  to  do  —  but 

Str.  [  Without  hearing  him.]  Not  to  open  the  door  —  my  own  door! 
Do  you  think,  sir,  they  heard  me  knock  ? 

Neiv.  Do  I  think  !  Oh,  my  gracious  !  You  don't  really  ask  me 
such  a  question  seriously  ? 

Str.  Then  it  must  have  been  done  on  purpose.  They  must  have 
bribed  Ptichards  to  leave  me  out  in  the  street,  and  on  such  a  night, 
too  —  a  devil  of  a  night — a  plot ;  don't  you  think  it  so  yourself,  sir? 

New.     Why,  if  .you  ask  me  ray  opinion 

Str.     In  a  pouring  rain  —  I'm  drenched  to  the  skin. 

New.  [Perceiving  that  the  stranger  is  tcet  through  and  is  inundating  the 
carpet.}  Oh,  my  goodness!  Why,  my  dear  sir,  you  must  be  soaked 
through  and  through!  [ Goes  and  fetches  a  towel.} 

Str.  [  To  himself.]  Shut  me  out  of  my  own  house  at  two  in  the 
morning !  [Newpenny  follows  him  about,  sopping  the  wet  after  him.']  They 
guessed  it  was  me.  They  must  have  known  my  voice.  [Sees  iV.j 
Hallo!  what  on  earth  are  you  about?    [x.  r.  h.] 

New.  [F-jllows  his  trace  toith  the  towel.]  Nothing — nothing — only 
I'm  rather  particular  about  my  floor,  and  you're  dripping  like  a  wa- 
ter spout. 

Str.  So  would  you  if  you'd  been  an  hour  under  one.  [x.  l.  h. 
and  squeezes  the  water  out  of  his  coat  tails.] 

New.  [Sopping  it  up.]  Oh,  my  gracious !  he  was  an  earthquake 
just  now  —  now  he's  a  deluge. 

Str.    What  a  fidgety  little  fellow  this  is.  [Going  up.] 

New.  Oh  !  it's  no  use.  I  give  it  up  —  there  !  [  Throws  the  away  the 
towel — goes  to  the  fireplace  L.  H.  2  E.  and  takes  up  the  bellows,  during  which 
time  the  stranger  seems  to  reflect.] 

Str.     Dark  as  pitch  ;  no  one  stirring — ^Aaf'a  quite  clear. 

New.     You  see,  sir,  I'm  getting  a  bit  of  fire  in  again,  for  you. 

Str.  You're  quite  right.  And  yet,  generally,  a  feather  would  wake 
her — what  can  it  mean  ? — [  Walks  to  and  fro. 

New.  If  he's  going  to  stamp  up  and  down  all  night,  in  this  way, 
hell  be  an  agreeable  companion.    Sir!     Sir! 

Str.     What's  the  matter? 

New.     Would'nt  you  like  to  rest  yourself  a  little  ?     You  see  here's 

a  capital  fire  now  ;    and  as  it  is  just  half-past  two,  by  my  watch 

[  Yawns.] 

Str.    Don't  yawn  I 


8  THE  bachelor's  BEDr005r : 

New.  I  won^t — but  it  strikes  me  we  might  begin  to  think  about 
goi>og  to  sleep.     Eh  !  what  do  you  think?  \^Bloivs  the  fire.'\ 

Str.  [Talks  to  himself,  and  takes  off  his  coat.^  Sleep,  indeed?  ah! 
[thromng  the  coat  on  the  bed,]  I  wish  1  could  sleep.  [  Tries  to  pull  off  his 
boots  by  help  of  a  chair.]  It's  easy  enough  to  talk  of  sleep  —  they  stick 
like  wax  !  Throws  dozen  the  bed-clothes  as  if  going  to  bed.]  You  don't 
happen  to  have  such  a  thing  as  a  boot-jack,  sir,  do  you? 

New.  Eh!  hallo!  what's  he  about?  [Runs  to  him.]  You'll  excuse 
me,  sir,  but  there's  one  thing  I'm  rather  particular  about,  and  that 
is,  sleei^ing  alone —  I  always  sleep  alone. 

Str.     Oh!     What,  you've  only  one  bed,  then? 

New.  Only  one !  1  dare  say  you  think  I  am  very  meanly  fur- 
nished ;  but  you  know  you  are  not  compelled  to  stay  here  if  you 
don't  like  it-    I  wish  now  I  could  get  rid  of  him. 

Str.  [On  side  of  bed.]  To  shut  the  door  against  me  in  a  pouring 
rain. 

New.  Come,  sir,  there's  an  arm-chair  at  your  service,  close  to  the 
fire,  and  you  can  sleep  there  very  comfortably  —  or  not,  just  as  you 
please. 

Str.  [Trying  the  arm-chair.]  Ay,  ay;  anything  will  do  for  me. 

New.  [Arranging  his  pillow.]  Good  night  then  —  or  rather  good 
morning  —  for  it's  almost [Yawns.] 

Str.  Oh  !  for  heaven's  sake,  don  't  yawn.  If  there's  anything  I 
hate,  in  the  world 

New.  Well,  upon  my  soul,  that's  a  good  one.  I  must  n't  yawn  in 
my  own  bed  room  now!  [Sits  on  the  side  of  the  bed — jumps  up  again.] 
Hallo  !  [perceiving  coat.]  Oh,  my  gracious !  if  he  has  n't  piit  his  nasty 
wet  coat  on  the  bed.   [Throws  it  on  a  chair.] 

Str.  Ugh  !  how  wretchedly  cold  I  am,  to  be  sure !  I  say,  sir, 
have  you  anything  I  could  throw  over  my  shoulders  ? 

New,  [Behind  the  curtain — affects  not  to  hear.]  Good  night,  sir,  good 
night. 

Str.     Oh !  here's  a  jacket ! 

New.  Stop,  stop !  I  beg  your  pardon  — it's  impossible  —  you  can't 
get  it  on  —  it's  a  new  jacket  for  my  little  nephew  —  to-morrow  is  his 
birth-day  —  and  you  '11  burst  the  seams  ! 

Str.      0  no !  I'm  very  thin. 

New.     Why  not  put  on  your  own  coat  ? 

Str.     It's  soaked  through  —  you've  no  idea  how  wet  it  is. 

New.  0  yes  I  have —  but  you  can't  get  the  boy's  jacket  on,  I  tell 
you. 

Str.     No?    [puts  it  on.]  What  do  you  say  to  that  ? 

New.  Oh,  my  gracious!  [Str.  sits  dozen.]  Oh,  what  a  man  !  —  well 
don't  cross  your  arms,  then,  or  you'll  certainly  split  it  —  you  must 
be  very  careful,  or 

Str.     That  infernal  Eichards,  too —  he  must  have  heard  me  knock. 

New.  I  give  it  up.  [  Ooing  back  to  bed.]  Oh,  dear  !  oh,  dear ,  what  a 
fool  I  have  been.  Never  mind  !  catch  me  asking  any  one  up  again — 
that's  all.  Oh !  I'm  chilled  to  the  bone  ;  I'll  pop  into  bed,  dressing- 
gown  and  all,  und  see  if  I  can't  get  a  little  warmth  into  me.  [Gtts 


OR,    TWO  IN   THE   MORNING.  9 

into  bed,]  Have  the  kindness  to  put  out  the  candle,  sir,  if  you  please; 
I  can't  sleep  in  a  blaze  of  light,  [a  moment's  silence  —  Stranger  knocks 
about  the  fire  irons.] 

Sir.     You're  a  bachelor,  I  suppose. 

Mw.     Yes,  yes  —  good  night. 

Str.  A  bachelor !  What  a  charm  there  is  in  that  single  word. 
Bachelor?  freedom  —  independence  —  tranquility — no  troubles  — 
no  cares  —  no  anxieties.  Bachelor!  humph!  his  sleep  is  sweet  and 
undisturbed 

New.     Is  it  ? 

Str.     Bachelor!  (Rises.)  bachelor!     (Tramps  up  and  down.) 

Neic.  (Sitting  up.)  My  dear  sir!  if  you  could  make  it  conveni- 
ent to  leave  off  trampirg  up  and  down  the  room  in  that  manner,  I 
should  esteem  it  a  favor  —  these  small  houses  are  so  slight  that 
every  step  shakes  me  in  my  bed  — besides,  you  'II  wake  the  lady  un- 
derneath —  she  only  came  to  lodge  here  yesterday  — and  she  '11  think 
there's  a  wild  beast  over  her. 

Str.  You  're  right  —  you're  right.  I  didn't  know  I  was  doing  so. 
What  a  fidgetty  little  frump  it  is  —  there!  \ Bangs  the  chair  down  on 
ike  fi/yor.]  There,  I'll  sit  quietly  down  and  then  1  suppose  I  '11  offend 
nobody.    [Sits  and  rocks  the  chair.] 

New.  Now  he's  knocking  the  furniture  about.  Oh,  what  a  man! 
Do  pray  be  quiet,  sir.  Deuce  take  it — I  wish  now  I  had  left  you 
where  you  were.  I  asked  you  up  to  stop  your  noise,  and  much,  I  see, 
I've  gained  by  it.  [Knocking  heard  against  the  floor  from  underneath.] 
There,  I  thought  so  —  there's  the  lady  on  the  first  floor,  knocking  for 
us  to  be  quiet.     Come,  do  let  us  go  to  sleep;  it  really  is  high  time. 

Str.  [Lights  cigar  —  goes  to  window  c.  and  throws  it  up.]  Aye,  aye. 
There  it  is  —  my  very  own  window  —  there's  no  disguising  that  fact. 

New.  [Sneezing.]  I  cannot  get  warm  again,  do  what  I  will.  My 
bed's  like  ice. 

Str.  [At  window.]  Here  will  I  take  up  my  station  for  the  night  — 
they  cannot  escape  me  so. 

New,  [Not  seeing  him,]  Sir,  will  you  be  kind  enough  to  throw  some- 
thing over  me  ?  [Stranger  puts  his  wet  coat  over  Am.]  Newpenny  shouts 
•'  No,  no!"  and  throws  it  off.]  I'm  very  much  afraid  I've  caught  cold, 
for  I'm  shivering  in  a  way  that— sir!  Hallo!  Where  is  he  ?  [Leans 
out  of  the  bed  and  sees  him  at  the  window.]  Why ,  you've  got  the  window 
open! 

Str.     What  doyousay?  r^me%.] 

Neiv,     I  say,  shut  that  window,  sir. 

Str.     It's  for  the  smoke. 

New.     You  're  giving  me  cold. 

Str.     Your  chimney  smokes,  I  tell  you. 

New.  No  such  thing  [Coughs.]  and  yet  —  why  it's  yourself — 
you've  lighted  your  cigar  again. 

Str,  There  —  I've  thrown  it  out  of  the  window.  [Throws  out  the 
cigar.] 

Neio.   (Kneeling  in  bed.)  Will  you  shut  that  window  or  will  you  not? 

Str.  (Shuts  it.)  There,  tiier«  —  don't  put  yourself  in  a  passion  — 


10  THE   bachelor's   BEDROOM  : 

from  the  moment  you  say  it's  unpleasant  —  that's  enough  for  —  any- 
thing for  a  quiet  life. 

licia.     A  quiet  life,  indeed! 

Str.  You've  surely  a  right  to  do  as  you  like  in  your  own  room,  and 
make  yourself  comfortable. 

Hetv.     Very  comfortable. 

Str.     Particularly  after  the  hospitality  you've  shown  me 

Netv.     Yes,  it  was  a  happy  hit  I  made. 

Sir.  There's  nothing  in  the  world  I  would  n't  do  to  please  you, 
and  show  you  that  y  )ur  civility  has  not  been  extended  to 

Neiv.  Yes  —  very  well —  I'm  satisfied.  There,  I'm  going  to  sleep. 
He  '11  chatter  for  a  week. 

Str.  (Seating  hmself  in  the  arm  chair  on  L.  H,  andwhisiles.)  Have  you 
been  long  in  ihis  neighborhood,  sir?  {Newpmny  turns  in  bed  to  avoid 
answering.  {Louder.)  I  was  enquiring,  sir,  whether  you  had  lived  long 
in  this  neighborhood. 

Neiv.     Yes,  yes,  I  have, 

Str.  You  have  ?  {Jumps  up.)  He  has !  then  he  must  know  all  the 
people  in  it.  What  if  I  —  yes  I  will !  (  Goes  to  the  head  of  the  bed  and 
pulls  open  the  curtains.)  Then  you  must  know  all  the  people  in  it — only 
imagine,  then  —  {strikes  the  bed-post  violenth/  ivith  his  hand.) — for  I'll 
tell  you  all,  sir ;  it  will  ease  my  bursting  heart,  and  you'll  be  able 
to  advise  me  —  only  imagine,  then,  I  say {strikes  bed-post  again.) 

New.     Stop ! 

Str.     What's  the  matter  ? 

New.  Stop — I  won't  keep  you  a  moment  —  I'll  get  up  and  listen 
—  I  prefer  it. 

Str.     Oh,  no,  do  n't  disturb  yourself. 

Ntw.     No,  I  won't,  but  I  prefer  getting  up. 

Str.     Oh!  if  you  prefer  it,  that's  another  thing.   {Walks  to  the  fire.) 

New.  Yes,  it's  much  better.  Oh,  my  gracious,  what  a  man!  {Put- 
ting on  his  slippers.) 

Sir.  Don't  hurry — don't  hurry  on  my  account  —  I'm  getting  a 
little  warm  now.   {Stands  loith  his  back  to  the  fire.) 

New.  {Behind  curtain  —  sneezes.)  What  a  man!  There,  {comes  out.) 
if  I  must  hear  a  story,  I  may  as  well  hear  it  by  the  fireside  comfort- 
ably, and  as  there  seems  no  chance  of  my  getting  a  wink  of  sleep  to- 
night, {Icokingfor  his  cup,  etc.)  I  shall  be  better  so — much  better  so — 
Where's  my  cap?  {Taking  it  from  Stranger's  head.)  There,  now,  then, 
for  your  story  —  let's  see  —  Where  were  you  ?  ( Fawns,  and  sits  at  table 
the  Stranger  seated  by  the  fire  L.  H.  2  E.) 

Str.     i)o  n't  yaAvn !  I'm  afraid  you're  too  sleepy  to  follow  me. 

New.  Not  a  bit!  I'm  wide  awake  !  very  odd  if  I  wasn't !  I'm  as 
lively  as  a  grig  —  so,  as  you  were  saying 

Str.  Well,  then,  as  I  was  saying — {Takes  the  other  candle  mechani- 
cally from  the  table,  lights  it  at  the  other  on  the  table,  and  places  them  together 
as  he  speaks.)  I'd  give  a  hundred  pounds  if  it  was  but  daylight. 

New.  Don't  mention  it;  so  would  I.  {Takes  the  snuffers  and  puts 
the  candle  out  again  — the  Stranger  takes  a  lump  of  coal  tip  with  the  tongs 
and  puts  it  on  the  fire.) 


OR,    TWO    IN    THR    MOKXIXa.  11 

Aew.     Are  you  putting  coals  on  ? 

Str.     Yes,  hir  :    as  I  be^an  by  telling  you,  I'm  a  married  man. 

iVeif.     You  never  t'>ld  me  any  such  thing  —  bat  uo  matter. 

Str.  Mine  was  a  love-match,  sir,  and  the  circumstances  attending 
it  were  as  singular  as  they  were  unexpected. 

New.  When  you  have  finished  your  fctory,  there  '11  be  nothing  to 
prevent  my  going  quietly  t  j  sleep,  eh  ? 

S/r.     Well,  three  months  afterwards 

New.  Oh !  we  've  got  to  three  months  afterwards,  have  we  ?  Well 
—  three  months  afterwards 

Str.     Well,  sir.    {Crossivg  his  arms.) 

New.     Do  n't  cross  your  arms. 

Str.    I  won't — you  know  Brentford  ? 

New,    Intimately. 

Str.  Oh,  the  romantic  associations  that  word  conjures  up.  [^Ldghts 
candle  again.] 

New.  Yes,  it's  a  romantic  case — \puts  the  candle  out — Stranger  puts 
on  a  coal.}  Ah !  you  're  putting  coals  on  again  !  \_Removes  the  coal 
scuttle.] 

Str.   Well — two  months  before  my  marriage 

New.  Stop,  stop— I  beg  your  pardon.  We  've  got  to  three  months 
afterwards — don  't,  let 's  go  back  again. 

Str.     You  '11  scarcely  bslieve  it. 

New.    What? 

Str.    I  was  born  at  Twiekenham. 

New.    You  don  't  mean  it ! 

Str.  But  first  of  all  I  ought  to  inform  you  that  my  wife — by  the 
by,  I  don 't  know  whether  I  told  you  1  was  married 

New.    Yes,  yes,  you  did,  you  did.     Oh,  my  gracious  ! 

Str.    Well,  sir.     [  Grosses  his  arms.] 

New.    Don't  cross  your  arms. 

Str.  No,  I  won't.  My  father-in-law  always  declared  that  when 
my  wife  was  a  baby 

New.  Now  she  's  a  baby  again.  There  's  not  the  slightest  con- 
nection in  his  ideas — [j/arcns.] 

Str.    Don 't  yawn — you  putme  out.     Where  was  I? 

New.    U-p on  m-y  1  i-f-e,  I  don't  k-n-o-w, 

Str.    Oh  !   my  father-in  law's  first  wife— that  was  it. 

New.  No,  no,  no — three  months  after  your  marriage — you  had 
got  as  far  as  that. 

Str.  Had  I?  I  told  you,  then,  of  my* finding  out  that  a  young 
man  was  in  love  with  my  wife  ? 

New.  The  deuce  there  was  !  What,  three  months  after  your  mar- 
riage ?     Oh,  ho  !    I  see  it  all— you  were  regularly  booked. 

Str.    What  do  you  mean  by  that,  sir? 

Neio.    Nothing,  only 

Str.  I  repeat  it.  sir— when  I  first  saw  her  she  was  engaged  to  be 
married  to  another— but  my  rival  happening  to  absent  himself  for 
three  days 


12  THE     bachelor's     BEDROOM:  : 

New.  There  he  wns  wrong — I  know  that  by  experience — I,  like  a 
fool,  left  my  sweetheart  for  three  days  only,  and — but  go  on 

Sir.  [Looldng  for  the  coals,  ivith  the  tongs  in  his  hands.'\  I  seized  the 
moment,  ran  away  with  the  girl,  and  when  the  booby  came  back  I 
had  made  her  my  wife.     [^Laughs!] 

New.  [^Laughs.]  Ha !  ha  !  well  done !  [Sees  Stranger  putting 
something  on  the  fire.]  St^p  !  stop  !  what's  that  ?  You  '11  excuse  me, 
but  you  've  got  my  bellows.  [  Takes  them  and  hangs  them  on  the  nail  by 
the  fire.'] 

Str.    The  worst  part  was [takes  up  a  bundle  of  quills.]     You 

have  your  quills  readj'-  nibbed,  I  see. 

Neio.    Yes,  I  'm  very  particular  about  my  nibs. 

Str.  The  worst  part  was,  I  never  could  get  hold  of  the  goose  ;  he 
kept  out  of  the  way  on  purpose.  Could  I  but  once  have  laid  my  hand 
upon  him — once  have  got  the  booby  within  my  grasp,  I  should  have 
smashed  hioi  as  I  do  this.     [Smashes  the  pens  on  the  table.] 

New.  (<h,  my  gracious!  you've  ruined  my  nibs!  [Takes  the 
bundle  from  him,  and  puts  them  further  off— whilst  he  does  so,  the  Stranger 
takes  up  boot  jack  with  the  tongs  to  put  on  the  fire.]  Hallo!  now  you've 
got  my  boot-jack.  [Takes  it  and  puts  it  under  the  wash-stand.]  He'll 
certainly  be  the  death  of  me. 

Str.  Not  that  I  had  any  reason  to  fear  him  at  all,  but  [takes  up  a 
stick  of  sealing  ivax] — you  know  females  are  of  that  soft,  yielding 
nature,  that  I  was  naturally  anxious 

New.  [Tries  to  get  hold  of  the  sealing  ivar^  Yes,  yes,  of  course! 
You  've  got  the  sealing  wax. 

Str.     How  red  you  are  in  the  face  ! 

New.  I  don  't  know  how  it  is — whether  the  interest  I  take  in 
your  story,  or  whether 

Str.  But  you  do  n't  blame  me— judge  for  yourself  I  For  my  own 
part  I  never  yield  in  anything — never.  [Newpenny  pulls  the  wax  out  of 
his  hand,  which  breaks] — I  had  occasion  to  go  to  Brentford;  my  business 
over,  I  wrote  to  my  wife,  naming  a  day  for  my  return.  A.  friend  who 
was  going  to  London,  undertook  to  deliver  my  letter, — [takes  up  pen- 
knife— when,  only  conceive  his  conduct,  with  my  letter  in  his  pocket, 
he  absolutely  changed  his  mind,  and  started  for  Bristol — Infamous  ! 
[Slicks  theknife  into  the  table — Newpenny  tries  to  pull  out  the  pen-knife,  as 
the  Stranger  takes  the  watch  out  of  the  stand— sl  short  time  after  I  found 
the  matter  out — [opens  the  case  and  turns  the  hands] — and  to  prevent 
any  more  time  being  lost,  J  determined  to  take  the  case  into  my  own 
hands 

Neio.  I  beg  your  pardon,  that's  my  watch/] — Takes  it  and  places  it 
in  its  wooden  stand  on  the  chimney  piece.] 

Str.  Yes,  I  resolved  to  come  up  to  town  myself.  [Taking  an  ivory 
paper  k?iife.  I  threw  myself  into  an  omnibus  and  left  Brentford,  de- 
termined to  break  the  matter  off  at  once.  [Snaps  the  knife  in  two.] 
At  last  I  arrived  in  town,  nearly  an  hour  ago 

New.    Nearly  ! 

Str.  More — more— considerably  more — no  matter ;  I  run  to  my 
door — I  knock,  and 


II 


OR,    TWO   IN   THE  MORNING.  13 

New.  [^Quickly.'\  And  I  know  the  rest.  {Jumps  up.!  There,  your 
etory  is  over.  I'm  very  much  pleased — and  now  I  '11  go  to  bed.  It 's 
a  singular  thing  I  had  much  such  a  thing  happen  to  myself. 

Sfr.    Indeed. 

Neio.  Yes,  I'll  tell  you  about  it  to-morrow.  Going— {Stranger holds 
Am.] 

Sir.    No  !  now ! 

New.    No,  no.    I  must  be  at  my  office  at  eight,  and  really 

Sir.  {Holding  Am.]  Never  mind  for  once — it  won't  take  you  a 
moment. 

New.    It 's  nothing,  I  tell  you. 

Str.    There  !    let  me  hear  it — I  may  get  a  hint  from  it. 

New.    Well !  I  once  had  a  sweet-heart — that's  all. 

Sir.    All !   all !  do  you  say  ?    Then  there's  more — go  on  ! 

New.  I  was  going  to  be  married ;  but,  unluckily,  business  called 
me  from  home  for  three  days— just  like  your  rival  

Str.    Yes,  the  fool — go  on ! 

New.    When  I  came  back,  a  thief  had  stolen  my  treasure 

Sir.    What!   your  money? 

New.  No-o— my  sweetheart.  A  scoundrel— just  as  you  did — the 
blackguard — I  got  back  at  night — knocked  at  the  door  and  there 
they  left  me — kicking  my  heels. 

Sir.    You  too !   and  in  the  rain  ? 

New.    No,  it  was  snowing. 

Sir.    Ah  !  that  makes  a  difference. 

New.  Yes,  one  can't  stand  it  so  long — so  I  soon  gave  it  up  ;  but, 
as  I  went  away,  I  cast  one  look  up  at  the  window 

Str.    Ay !  a  lingering  look — I  know  it — well. 

New.    And  what  do  you  think  I  saw? 

Str.    All  dark? 

New.   No — alight  in  the  window. 

Str.    In  her  room  ? 

New.    In  her  room — and  by  that  light  I  saw 

Sir.    What? 

New.  Oh,  my  gracious  !  [  Two  shadows  are  seen  on  the  window  cur' 
tain  opposite — a  man  and  a  woman,  talking  familiarly.'] 

Str.    What's  the  matter  ?   what  did  you  see  ? 
I     New.    Just  what  you  see  there.     {Points  to  window^ 

Sir.    Fire  and  fury — my  wife  and— who  can  it  be  ? 

New.    There— just  as  mine  did — ha!  ha!  ha!  ha  I 

Sir.    Confusion  !  do  you  laugh  at  me  ?     {Seizes  and  shakes  Mm.'\ 

New.    No,  no,  it  was  a  slight  convulsion — nothing  more. 

Sir.  {Furiously.]  Oh  !  for  something  to  annihilate — a  gun — a  can- 
non—a  knife — a  stone!  (Rushes  about  —  takes  watch  from  the  chim- 
ney  piece  and  throws  it  through  the  opposite  window — sounds  of  broken 
glass  heard — the  light  disappears.) 

New.    What  have  you  thrown  ? 

Sir.    They  have  disappeared — the  wretches ! 

New.   What  was  it  you  threw  ? 

Sir.    Oh!    don't  bother! 


14  THE  bachelor's  BEDROOM: 

New.  But  you  've  tkrown  sometliing  of  mine  out  of  the  window— 
"what  was  it  ? 

Str.    What  can  it  matter? 

Netc.    It  matters  verj  much  ? 

Str.  I  do  n't  know — I  tell  you  something  that  was  on  the  chim- 
ney-piece. 

New.  (Rushes  to  the  chimney.)  Mercy  on  me  !  Why  it  is  my  watch  ! 
{Seizes  Stranger.)  Do  you  know  I  shall  do  you  a  very  serious  injury  ? 
(Daylight  begins  to  breik.)  You've  broken  my  rest — you've  broken 
my  furniture — you've  hrolcen  my  watch.  You  are  my  plague — my 
torment— my  detestation — and  now  leave  my  house !  * 

Sir.    Where's  the  key  ? 

New.     You  broke  it  you  know.    Leave  the  house  ! 

Str.    Another  key. 

New.     Leave  the  house ! 

Str.  How?  Which  way?  Where?  Is'nt  the  door  locked?  you 
know  it  is. 

New.     I  don't  care. 

Str.  You  don't, sir !  [^Treads on  his  toe J^  Is  it  your  intention  to 
detain  me  here  against  my  will? 

New.  What !  detain  you  !  I  detain  you !  Oh !  yes,  I  think  so — 
my  good  friend,  if  that  window  had  n't  been  two  stories  high,  you  'd 
have  been  out  of  this  an  hour  ago,  I  can  tell  you. 

Str.     Then  give  me  a  key ! 

New.  I  will — don't  be  alarmed — I  luckily  have  got  another — detain 
you  !  detain  him!  !      [Goes  to  door,  r.  h.  2  e.] 

Str.  (Aside.)  Broad  daylight !  They  must  open  the  door  now.  Make 
haste  with  the  key  !  Ah  !  Mary,  Mary,  is  this  the  way  you  repay 
my  affection  ?  [Listening.~\  Eh  !  I  heard  a  door  shut !  \Runs  to  the 
window,  c.  flat.']  It  was  mine — I  thought  as  much — an  individual  has 
gone  out — it  must  be  the  man !  The  key  !  where  is  that  horrid,  ex- 
ecrable key  ?     I  shall  lose  him. 

New.     I  can't  think  where  the  deuce  I  can  have  put  it. 

Str.  Confusion!  he'll  escape  and  I  can't  even  see  his  face — a 
rope !  a  ladder !  any  thing  1  [Drags  the  counterpane  off  the  bed.]  I 
won't  lose  him — I'm  determined  ! 

New.  Here  it  is  at  last !  Hollo  !  thieves !  thieves  !  I've  got  you, 
the [Seizes  him  by  the  collar.] 

Str.  Pooh  !  nonsense !  you  little  fool — let  me  go.  [Throws  him  on 
the  bed  and  puts  one  end  of  the  counterpane  out  of  the  window — Newpenny 
gets  up  and  seizes  the  other  end.] 

New.     Give  me  my  counterpane ! 

Str.    Let  me  get  down ! 

New.    My  counterpane ! 

Str.    I  only  want  to  get  down  by  it ! 

New.  I  don't  care— I  won't  have  it. — [The  stranger  lets  go  his  end  of 
the  counterpane — Newpenny  tumbles  against  the  ivash- hand- stand  and  upsets 
it  with  a  crash.] 

Voice.  [  Without.]  Good  gracious  !  What  is  that  noise  above  stairs? 
What  a  disturbance  there  has  been  all  night. 


OR,    TWO   IN   THE    MOKNINO.  15 

Str.  Surely  that 's  my  wife's  voice.  Mary,  liow  came  you  in  this 
house  ? 

Female.     Moved  in  yesterday,  from  over  the  way. 

Str.  Then  she  's  innocent !    It 's  my  wife,  Mrs.  Higginbottom  ! 

New.  Higginbottom!  my  sweetheart!  this,  then,  is  the  fellow  who 
stole  her  from  me. 

Str.  Good  bye — I  must  run.  [^Sdzts  Newpenny's  hat  and  stick — 
going — Neicpenny  stops  him.l 

New.  Hollo !  is  that  the  way  you  leave  the  house,  after  all  the 
trouble  you've  given  me — and  not  a  word  of  apology. 

Sir.  1  beg  your  pardon — you're  right,  but  I'm  in  such  a  state  of 
agitation, — [Comes  foricard] — Ladies  and  gentlemen,  if  there's  one 
thing  I  detest  more  than  another — [^gesticulating  with  the  stick — New- 
penny takes  it  from  him  and  brings  forward  his  wet  umbrella. 

New.     I  beg  your  pardon. 

Str.  You  put  me  out, — I  say  the  fear  of  taking  to  myself  that 
which  properly  belongs  to  another — [Takes  off  his  hat — Newpenny  seizes 
and  brings  foricard  thewetone — throws  his  own  by  mistake  out  of  the  window,  j 
What  a  fidget  you  are  !  How  can  I  speak  if  you  keep  interrupting  me  ? 
Ladies  and  gentlemen — I  say  again,  a  burden  is  placed  on  my  shoulder 
which  does  not  properly  belong  tome — 

New.  Stay, — you're  right  again,  there, — I  forgot  my  nephew's 
jacket. 

Str.     Sir,  let  me  tell  you  these  interruptions  —  [crosses  his  arm.^ 

New.  Don't  cross  your  arms — there  you've  done  it, — I  knew  you 
would.  [Turns  him  around  and  shows  the  Jacket  split  up.  Now,  come 
here.  [  Takes  him  by  the  arm,']  I  must  bring  this  to  an  end,  for  I  can 
bear  it  no  longer;  and  I  am  sure  all  my  friends  in  the  neighborhood 
here,  must  have  had  enough  of  you.  There's  your  umbrella — and 
there's  your  hat.  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  he  shall  bore  you  no  long 
er — I'll  see  him  safe  out  myself,  this  time — but  if  you  have  borne 
his  visit  with  only  one  half  the  patience  I  have,  perhaps  he  may 
obtain  your  permission  again  to  make  his  bow  to  you.  [To  Stran- 
ger.] Bow !  — and  if  so,  I  give  him  leave  to  knock  me  up  as  often 
as  you  please,  at 

TWO    IN    THE    MORNING. 


SITUATIONS. 

Newpenny.  SxnANaEE. 

CURTAIN. 
«.  H.  L.  n. 


i 


(Catalogue  continued  from  second  page  of  cover.) 


VOL.    XLI. 

321  The  Pirate's  Legacy 

322  The  Charcoal  Burner 

323  Adelgitha 

324  Sen  or  Valiente 

325  Forest  Eose 

326  Duke's  Daughter 

327  Camilla's  Husband 

328  Pure  Gold 


VOL.  XLII. 

329  Ticket  of  Leave  Man 

330  Fools  Kevenge 

331  0' Neil  the  Great 
3.33  Randv  Andy 

333  Pirate  of  the  Isles 

334  Fanchon 

3.35  Little  Barefoot 
336  -VTild  Irish  Girl 


VOL.  XLIII. 

337  Pearl  of  Savoy 

338  Dead  Heart 


Hamlet,  in  Three  Acts 
The  Oath  of  Office 


Guttle  &  Gulpit 


Bound  Volumes,  containing  Eight  Plays $1  25 

The  Guide  to  the  Stage,  by  Leman  Thomas  Kede.  Containing  Clear  and  Full  Directions  for  obtaining 
Theatrical  Engagements,  with  complete  and  valuable  instructions  for  beginners,  relative  to  salaries,  rules,  man 
ner  of  going  through  Rehearsals ,  securing  proper  dresses,  conduct  atafirst  appearance,  Ac.  Ac.  To  which  is 
added  a  list  of  the  principal  English  and  American  Theatres.  Edited  and  adapted  to  the  American  Stage  by 
Fkancis  C.  M-emyss.  Price  lo  Cent? 


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Being  choice  Recitations  in  prose  and  verse.  Together  with  an  unique  collection  of 
Petite  Comedies,  Dramas  and  Farces,  adapted  for  the  use  of  Schools  and  Families. 
By  Charles  Massey,  Professor  of  Elocution  at  Burlington  College,  N.  J.,  and  Me- 
chanics' Society  School,  New  York  City.    Two  numbers.. per  number, 

The  Two  numbers,  bound  in  cloth,  School  style 

Dramas  for  the  Drawing:  Room,  by  Miss  Keating 

Plays  for  the  Parlor,  by  Miss  Keating 

Acting-  Charades,  by  Miss  Pickering 

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Life  of  a  Showman,  by  Davii>  Prince  Miller 

Punch  and  Judy,  Illustrated - -- - 

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Dramas  for  Boys,  (Male  Characters  only,)  by  Miss  Keating 

Home  Plays  for  Ladies,  (Female  Characteis  only  )  complete  in  2  parts each 

An  Evening-'s  Entertainment,  an  original  Comedy,  a  Burlesque  and  Farce 

Shakspeare's  Proverbs,  by  Mrs.  Cowdin  Clarke _ 

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THE    ETHIOPIAN    DRAMA 

No.  1.  Robert  Make-Airs. 

2.  Box  and  Cox. 

3.  Mazeppa. 

4.  United  States  Mail. 

5.  The  Coopers. 

6.  Old  Dad's  Cabin. 

7.  The  Rival  Lovers. 

8.  The  Sham  Doctor. 

9.  Jolly  Millers. 

10.  Villikins  and  his  Dinnah. 

11.  The  Q,uack  Doctor. 

12.  The  Mystic  Spell. 

13.  The  Black  Statue. 
The  above  Dramas  have  been  produced  with  the  utmost  care,  not  only  to  the  coriectness 

to  the  text,  but  to  all  the  Stage  Directions,  Properties,  and  other  minutiae,  pertaining  to 
their  being  properly  placed  on  the  Stage.  Although  these  Dramas  are  specially  adapted 
for  Ethiopian  entertainments,  they  are  well  fitted  for  Private  Theatricals. 

;^~  JiOTlCE,— Owing  to  the  continued  increase  in  price  of  Press  'Work,  Paper  nnd 
Binding,  we  shall  he  obliged  to  charge  Fifteen  Cents  at  Retail,  for  the  Standard  and  Minor 
Drama. — January  1st,  1864. 

Any  of  the  above  sent  by  Mail  or  Express  on  receipt  of  price. 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  Publisher, 

122  Nassau  Street,  (Up  Stairs.) 

Agent  for  Lacy's,  Cumberland's,  and  "Webster's  English  Plays. 


.14. 

Uncle  Jeff. 

15. 

The  Mischievous  Nigg:er. 

16. 

The  Black  Shoemaker. 

17. 

The  Mag-ic  Penny. 

18. 

The  "Wreck. 

19. 

Oh,  Hush:  or,  TheVir- 

g:inny  Cupids. 

20. 

The  Portrait  Painter. 

21. 

The  Hop  of  Fashion. 

22. 

Bone  Squash. 

23. 

The  Virg:inia  Mummy. 

24. 

Thieves  at  the  Mill. 

25. 

Comedy  of  Errors. 

Gaylamount 

Pamphlet 

Binder 

Gay  lord  Bros.,  Inc. 

Stockton,  Calif. 
T.  M.  Reg.  U.S.  Pat.  Off. 


CDSIMDIODI 


M43329 


THE  UNIVrPc-- 


^7 


